


if i could fly

by ADreamingSongbird



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forehead Kisses, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Missing Scene, Pre-Relationship, episode 19 was fucked up huh let's add some hurt/comfort to this pot yeah, mentions of abuse, mentions of eating disorders, set post ep. 20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22385932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamingSongbird/pseuds/ADreamingSongbird
Summary: The night after cornering Blanca and Yut-Lung's men in the Natural History Museum, Ash can't sleep.
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 31
Kudos: 338





	if i could fly

It’s late.

New York never sleeps, and in the cramped stillness of this little hidey-hole, it’s easier than ever to remember. Cars still roll by outside, even honking once, every now and then, and the streetlights chirp with every change. The city completely masks all the stars. Even the moon is barely visible, just a pale sliver hanging above the horizon.

Ash should be asleep. He knows he should. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and he’ll need all his wits about him just to survive. And he’s exhausted.

But the idea of lying down and closing his eyes…

He can’t.

He blows out a short sigh and leans back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. Another lonely car drives past, on the street below. He wishes he could do that—could just get in a car and drive and drive and drive, til the gas tank hit empty and he was far, far away from here. But he can’t. He’s a wild animal in a cage, left to pace angrily until its captors wear it down.

Why the hell did Blanca have to come back?

Why did he—why did he decide to work with fucking Yut-Lung, of all people? Didn’t he—doesn’t he care?

Of course not. Ash rolls his eyes, annoyed with himself. Blanca was never someone who cared about him. Blanca was only kind to him because Golzine hired him to teach him, and none of the cruel tutors could get anything through to him. He never _really_ cared. It’s stupid of him to have thought maybe Blanca was different.

The door creaks, a high-pitched whine, and he snaps to attention, whipping around as his hand lunges for his gun—but it’s just Eiji, wrapped in a too-large denim jacket he must’ve borrowed from Alex, and holding a tray. He doesn’t look at all startled to see Ash holding his gun; he just gently inclines his head.

“You should be sleeping,” he says, voice gentle despite the rebuke, and closes the door behind himself with his foot. In the dim lamplight, he looks ethereal. “You need your rest.”

“Could say the same for you.” Ash sighs, places the gun on the flimsy bedside table, and comes closer to him. “Why’re you awake?”

Eiji sets the tray down on the bed and sits down, slow and careful so he doesn’t jostle it. There’s a teapot there, and two empty cups. “I wanted to check on you first.”

Ash softens. “I’m fine, Eiji.”

Eiji looks up at him with a smile that’s far too knowing for comfort. “You aren’t,” he says, and pats the spot on the bed next to him. “Sit.”

Ash sits. In the hush of the blue night, it almost feels like the rest of the world has fallen silent, broken down into nothingness by the wayside, and it’s just the two of them in this little golden bubble, away from the noise. “Where’d you get a teapot?”

Eiji snorts. “I asked around,” he says, as if it should be obvious. “I figured _someone_ had to have one.”

“Why would anyone bring a teapot on a life-or-death suicide mission like this?” Ash asks, incredulous. “That’s fuckin’ stupid.”

But the evidence sits in front of him: someone brought a little ceramic teapot, with two matching cups. Whoever it belongs to must hold it dear, to carry it even in the face of danger.

That, or they don’t give a singular shit about what happens to it, if they’re willing to bring it out here.

He looks at Eiji. His chest tightens.

“One of Sing’s boys did.” Eiji lifts the pot and with a steady hand, pours first one, then two cups of tea. Fragrant, earthy steam billows into the musty air. “He asked me to be careful with it, but said he did not mind if I borrowed it.”

Of course he didn’t mind. If Eiji looked at him with those big brown eyes and said _please,_ who could resist?

Ash looks away. He knows exactly who could resist. Who would love to see Eiji beg, and plead, and scream, and cry. To see him tortured and used and dirtied and broken, to—

“Ash?”

He makes himself look back at Eiji. It takes more effort than he’s willing to admit.

“Here.” Eiji pushes one of the cups toward him. “Jasmine green. It will help calm your nerves.”

“And who said my nerves need calming?” Ash accepts the cup anyway, but puts it back down immediately. It’s too hot. “I’m alright.”

Eiji touches his knee. “You’re not,” he repeats, and tilts his head with a small smile. “You can tell me, Ash. You do not have to lie and put on a brave face.”

Ash sighs. “…How did you know I couldn’t sleep?”

“Call it a lucky guess.” Eiji’s smile turns a little wry. “Is it so hard to believe I know you, Ash?”

“You do.” Ash drops his gaze to the bedsheets. He wants to put his hand over Eiji’s, to intertwine their fingers, to feel _something_ of him close to him. Would that be too much? Would that drive Eiji away?

No, Eiji held him earlier, wrapped blankets around him, and fed him soup. It’s hard to believe that was only yesterday. Only a day since Eiji snatched him from hell itself.

Eiji wants to help. Eiji won’t push him away.

“So you also know why I am awake.” Eiji smiles at him again, then withdraws, folding his hands in his lap, and Ash could kick himself for missing his chance. He wants… he wants to…

He shouldn’t want things like that anyway, so it’s a moot point. He tells himself not to feel disappointed.

“I do.” Instead, he focuses on Eiji, on the way his hair falls messily across his forehead and his eyes shine in the low light. “Whose jacket?”

Eiji looks down at himself, as if only just now remembering he’s wearing borrowed clothes after his stunt in the water earlier. Which Ash is still mad at him for, by the way. “Oh, this? It is Alex’s. My hoodie is still drying, so he let me borrow it after the shower.”

“Ah.” Ash nods. “Thought as much. Sorry to put you through all this. I’m sure tomorrow we can regroup ‘n’ grab our shit so you don’t have to borrow clothes from everyone.”

The gang all keep a few extra clothes in each hideout. Never know when you’ll need a change of clothes that’s not bloodied, or if you’ll be forced to hunker down for a few days—it’s always better safe than sorry. But Eiji never did that; all his clothes and things are in their apartment at One Columbus Place, so they may as well be in Japan for how accessible they are right now. There’s no way that entire bulding isn’t being watched by hawks.

“It’s okay.” Eiji’s nose wrinkles, as if he’s hiding a smile. “Unless you mind that I stole your pants.”

That, at least, is an easy topic, and Ash rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right, as if you didn’t do that all the time already.”

Eiji laughs. “And you steal my shirts, so I think it is a fair trade, right?”

Normally, Ash thinks, this is when he’d needle back and complain that Eiji keeps rolling up the hems on his sweatpants anyway, so it seems redundant to steal them. Normally, he’d point out that he could never wear one of Eiji’s weird bird shirts out in public, ‘cuz they’re just too weird. Normally, they’d poke at each other, and laugh it off.

But none of this is normal anymore.

Ash lets out a breath and closes his eyes, slumps to the side, and lays his head on Eiji’s shoulder. The denim jacket is stiff under his cheek, but it’s warm from Eiji’s body, and he closes his eyes for a moment.

Eiji makes it easy to let his guard down. Makes it dangerously easy to feel safe. He’s never felt safe around anyone before.

What does it mean? How does he feel so safe around someone he would die to protect? God knows Eiji couldn’t protect him if it came down to it—Eiji’s hands are clean, hands made for healing and not for killing. He looks at Eiji, and he wants to curl up around him, to hold him close and scream his undying rage at the unholy world that seeks to defile his light… but he also feels pure, pure in a way he doesn’t think he’s felt since before Griff left. How does Eiji do it?

“Ash,” Eiji murmurs, and he takes Ash’s hand, pulls it into his lap, and holds it in both of his. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” Ash opens his eyes and looks down through his eyelashes, watching as Eiji strokes his thumb over his knuckles.

Eiji’s hands are strong and skilled—he still has calluses from his years of training on the pole, though he constantly complains about them peeling, and though it’s harder to see, his fingers know all sorts of things, like how to fly across the dials and settings of his camera, or how to chop vegetables at a frankly ridiculous speed. They aren’t hands that are coated in years’ worth of blood and death. They’re hands that know how to give life.

“How are you feeling?” Eiji strokes a fingertip over the lines in his palm, tracing—one of these is a life line, and another the heart line, and one the head, but Ash doesn’t know which is which. “We haven’t had a lot of time to just… sit. And talk. I was so worried about you.”

When Ash sucks in a breath to blow out as a sigh, he’s dismayed to realize that it’s shaky. “I… I’ve been better,” he admits, and watches Eiji’s fingers still. “But don’t worry. I’m still strong enough to get us out of this.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Eiji lets go of his hand; Ash would be distressed, but he immediately wraps that arm around his shoulders and lets him stay, leaning into his side. “I did not ask if you are strong right now.”

“They need me to be strong.” Ash grits his teeth, staring at the floor. He’s fine. He has to be. Why won’t his traitorous hands stop trembling?

“Maybe they do,” Eiji says, his hand warm on Ash’s shoulder, “but I don’t.”

Ash glances at him. “Of course you do. If I break down, who’s gonna know what Dino and Blanca—” _curse him,_ Ash thinks, except instead of hate there’s only _hurt_ “—are planning?”

“You can be strong for everyone in the morning.” Eiji’s thumb rubs a little circle on his shoulder. “I know you can do it. But for tonight, Ash, just be you. No worries about what everyone needs from you. Okay? Just let me take care of you.”

Normally, Ash knows, he would protest. Eiji doesn’t need to take care of him.

But tonight isn’t normal.

“Okay,” he agrees, weary from the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I can’t sleep.”

“I know.” Eiji rubs his shoulder again. “The tea might help.”

And that, too—that’s ridiculous. Ash huffs out a tiny laugh, shaking his head. “Where did you even get jasmine tea? None of us have that stocked. Don’t tell me you ran to the store. Does one of Sing’s guys carry around tea, too? Same guy as had the pot?”

“I carry around tea,” Eiji says, and lightly thumps his shoulder. “These were my last two bags, though. I meant to put more in my bag, but… I forgot.”

“Mm.” Ash lifts his head, and Eiji smiles at him, letting his arm drop but not pulling away completely, so that his hand rests on Ash’s back. He’s warm. “Too bad you forgot, huh? Coulda had a tea party til dawn here.”

“No,” Eiji frowns, and ruffles his hair in reprimand. Ash ducks his head with a squawk of complaint, tosses his head to get it out of his eyes, and then gives him a dirty look, and Eiji grins. “Sleep is important, Ash.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ash sighs, picks up his teacup, and takes a slow sip. It’s still on the hot side, but it’s good, earthy and floral. It’s a nice, simple flavor—not rich, not overly spiced—and his body welcomes it, even as his mind relaxes just because it’s tea Eiji made for him. Eiji apologized about the shitty canned soup earlier, but…

He doubts he could’ve kept anything richer down, anyway. Better this way.

Eiji rubs his back, slow and gentle, as he drinks. “That’s it. Drink slow!”

“Yes, Onii-chan.” Ash sinks into his side again, and Eiji wraps his arm around his waist so easily and so gently that tears nearly spring to his eyes. How is it so easy for Eiji to touch him so kindly, when it’s so difficult for everyone else?

And he’s not a clingy person. He’s never craved being held, or at least if he did, it was a habit that was quickly raped out of him; he doesn’t _do_ physical touch with people. People who touch him either are real close in trust, or are about to lose their hands.

But Eiji…

Eiji makes him ache.

Eiji awakens a yearning, deep within his soul. A longing that cries out into the emptiness, begging it to be filled; a need that nestles into the nooks and crannies of his heart and makes itself at home there, until he doesn’t know how to exist without aching to be filled up with Eiji’s light, his love, his warmth.

And normally, he can repress it. Normally, he can ignore that ache, or can sate it with little passing touches in their home, or with dumb arguments that turn into play-wrestling matches that he always wins. Normally, it doesn’t overcome him.

But tonight…

He curls into Eiji’s side, nestles against him as if he belongs there, and wraps one tentative arm around his waist, just to be close to him. Eiji certainly doesn’t seem to mind; he gives him a gentle squeeze and leans his cheek against his hair, and picks up his own teacup like nothing is different.

“I’m fine,” Ash whispers again, more for himself than anyone else.

“You are not.” Eiji gently bumps his head against his. “And that is okay, Ash. You do not need to be fine always. Not with me.”

“I know.” Ash closes his eyes. The warmth of his teacup seeps into his hand, and the warmth of Eiji’s touch seeps into his heart. The world doesn’t seem as distant and fuzzy and overwhelming. Just being held shouldn’t make him feel safe again, but…

But it does.

“He wanted me to suffer,” he mumbles. He doesn’t know why he’s telling Eiji this. It’ll just make him sad. But it’s rattling around inside his head, and he wants it out. “Made me be his puppet in meetings. Forced me to take IV injections. Told me once he broke my mind, it’d be back to using my body. All until he killed me.”

“Ash,” Eiji murmurs, and his arm tightens around him.

“He took me to the opera, a couple times.” Ash turns his head, presses his face to Eiji’s collarbone, as if he can hide there. “Drugged me so I couldn’t see beforehand. Every time. Just to make sure I couldn’t escape.”

“Oh, Ash.” Eiji puts his teacup down, and his hand cups Ash’s cheek. Golzine did that, too, but Eiji actually cares, really just actually _cares_ about him, and it shows in his touch—he’s tender without mockery, sweet without pain, kind without chill. His fingers stroke the hair back from Ash’s face, tucking it behind his ear. “I wish I had not missed.”

Ash closes his eyes and turns his face into Eiji’s palm, chasing after his touch. “You scared the shit out of me when you showed up.”

“Did I?” Eiji strokes his cheek again, even though his hair isn’t there anymore. “Why?”

“Thought for sure he was gonna catch you ‘n’ kill you.” Ash shakes his head slightly. Eiji’s hand is warm on his face. It’s nice. “I couldn’t stand the idea of him getting a finger on you.”

“Oh, Ash,” Eiji breathes, and his arm around him goes tight. “That is how I felt about him getting you, too. I couldn’t breathe.”

“I’m sorry,” Ash mumbles, but he isn’t. He’d do it all over again if it kept Eiji safe. He’d do anything. He’s just so tired. “I couldn’t let them kill you.”

“I know, Ash. I know.” Eiji guides his head into place so he can press his face into his neck, and Eiji leans his cheek against his hair. “You mean the world to me. I hate seeing you suffer.”

Ash opens his eyes. His eyelashes brush Eiji’s neck. “You… you know that’s all I can do, at this point.”

“No.” Eiji shakes his head. “We will get out of here, and you will come with me to see Izumo.”

The tears that threatened earlier are suddenly back in full force, and Ash has to swallow a sob that tries to wrench itself from his throat. Eiji still thinks he can leave? Can get away from here? After all of this, Eiji still really thinks…

“You have so much faith in me,” he manages, his knuckles white as he grips the teacup. “Are you sure it’s not misplaced?”

“Positive.” Eiji doesn’t even hesitate. “Listen to your Onii-chan for once, will you? I will get you out of here. I promise, Ash.”

Ash closes his eyes again, squeezing them shut against the tears. He takes a shaky breath, and holds it until he feels a little steadier. “That’s… a big promise.”

“I know.” Eiji gives him a little squeeze. “But I mean it.”

“I’d like that,” he manages, and the first tear slips out, running into Eiji’s jacket immediately. Hopefully, Eiji hasn’t noticed the thickness in his voice. It sounds too good to be true, but god, he’s tired of assuming he’s going to die, only to keep living through hell and hell and hell instead. Is it stupid of him to spend one night dreaming of a distant, fake future where he gets to escape?

“You will see.” Eiji rubs his back, and he knows he’s been caught. “Now drink your tea.”

“Right.” Ash takes a deep breath and lifts his head, wiping his eyes surreptitiously on his sleeve. “Tea.”

They sit quietly for several heartbeats, sipping their tea. Jasmine is a good flavor. Ash never cared for green tea much before he met Eiji, but it’s grown on him; he has to admit it _is_ pretty soothing to sit here with Eiji’s arm around him, drinking Eiji’s favorite tea.

Eiji keeps holding him to his side, though his gaze drifts to the window. Ash knows he’s listening to the sounds of the city, to the occasional _whoosh_ of every car that goes by. There’s some kind of wistfulness in his eyes, though he can’t name it, and he doesn’t know why, but it makes him sad.

“I’m sorry,” Eiji says softly. “For scaring you.”

Ash shakes his head. “You saved me. Don’t apologize.”

“No, I am sorry.” Eiji looks at him again. “I don’t want you to feel… responsible. And I know it hurts to be scared and helpless. I don’t want to make you feel that way.”

“You didn’t.” Ash sighs, leaning into his side. “Dino did. You… made me feel safe.”

“You just said I scared you,” Eiji contradicts, but Ash shakes his head.

“The idea of him getting his hands on you is what scared me.” He lays his head on Eiji’s shoulder again, soaking up the warmth of him. It’s the anorexia, and the malnutrition, he knows, but he can’t get warm these days. He’s so cold. “You being near him scared me. Rather, him being near you.”

“I couldn’t leave you there.” Eiji’s voice is soft. “You know that, right? Wherever you go, you won’t be alone. I won’t let you.”

“You really mean it, when you say that.” Ash closes his eyes for a moment. Eiji smells good, like the lavender-and-freesia soap in the bathroom. Bones bought that one, he recalls. It’s a good scent for Eiji. “You never want to leave me.”

“I told you before, and I will tell you again,” Eiji murmurs. “I’ll stay by your side. No matter what. As long as you don’t mind me being there.”

“I could never mind.” Ash lets out a soft breath. Normally, he’d struggle to voice how much Eiji means to him, but tonight, the words come easily. “I just don’t get why you’d choose to stand by someone like… me.”

“Because you are my best friend, Ash.” Eiji rubs his shoulder again. “And I care about you very, very much.”

They’re dancing around words now. Ash won’t say them first; he can’t trap Eiji in something like this with him, no matter how much Eiji says he wants to be here. But in the safety of his own mind, he looks up at Eiji’s gentle smile and soft eyes and thinks, _I love you._

It’s not the first time he’s thought it. It won’t be the last.

“I care about you, too.” Ash sets down his tea and rests his hand on Eiji’s knee, tentative. When Eiji doesn’t brush him off, he relaxes and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re—"

Eiji winces.

Ash sits up immediately, nearly jostling the teacup as the lumpy mattress shifts with his weight, and narrows his eyes. Eiji’s arm falls from around his shoulders, but he ignores that to pin Eiji with a sharp look. “You’re hurt.”

“No, no! I am fine.” Eiji laughs, waving a dismissive hand. “Just a few bruises. Yut-Lung’s guys were shitty drivers, and we did not have seatbelts.”

“You’re not telling me everything.” Ash reaches for him, cups his chin, and carefully turns his face from side-to-side, examining it closely. He doesn’t seem too bloodied, but when Ash reaches up to run a hand through his hair, Eiji ducks a little.

“Don’t—don’t touch there,” he requests, catching Ash’s wrist. “It is, um… tender.”

“Why?”

Eiji hesitates.

“Eiji.”

“One of them kicked me in the head,” Eiji says, and looks down at his tea. “Not that hard. I know what a concussion feels like, and this is not it. It just bled some, and I think it bruised but it is under my hair so I cannot see, but there is no swelling, so—”

“I can’t believe I didn’t kill them all,” Ash whispers.

Eiji’s head snaps up. “Ash!”

“They lay their filthy fucking fingers on you, and I let them live.” Ash feels his chest grow tight with rage. He’s _furious._ He’s going to kill them. They hurt Eiji because he was too weak to fight them off on his own. He’s going to kill Yut-Lung, he’s going to kill—

Eiji leans over and yanks him into a hug.

Ash freezes.

His head is against Eiji’s chest, Eiji’s chin is resting atop his head, and Eiji’s arms are tight around his neck, holding him close as Eiji kneels on the bed next to him. He can hear Eiji’s heart beating.

Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts his arms, wraps them around Eiji’s waist, and presses his face into his chest.

“I am okay, Ash,” Eiji murmurs, and tightens his arms around him. “I am okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

“They hurt you,” Ash tries, but his voice is hoarse and oh, god, the tightness in his chest wasn’t rage after all, it was _terror,_ and now his eyes are watering again and he _can’t_ cry right now, not when Eiji’s just trying to have tea with him so they can sleep. “They hurt you.”

“No worse than I have had from track practice if I fucked up my landing.” Eiji’s hand scrunches through his hair, fingers gentle against his scalp. “It’s okay, Ash. I’m okay. I’m here.”

“Eiji,” he begs, and his voice cracks. “I—I’m so _tired_ of this.”

“I know.” Eiji hugs him tighter. “I know. Just hold on. We will be free from it all soon. I promise.”

Ash clutches at him, face buried in his chest, and listens to his heart beating. He doesn’t cry; he just squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on Eiji’s heartbeat, and as if that teaches his own heart how to steady itself, he feels the tightness in his chest start to dissipate again.

Eiji strokes his hair all the while, quiet and steadfast, and Ash takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Eiji strokes his hair again. “You have not done anything.”

“Freaked out for a minute.” Ash shrugs, still holding him close. “I can’t—I shouldn’t do that right now. You’re right, we need sleep.”

“You still need to finish your tea, before anything,” Eiji says, and loosens his arms enough that Ash can look up at him. He’s smiling, and when Ash tips his face up, Eiji bops him gently on the nose. “So don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Ash huffs out a tiny laugh, and they part from their embrace. But when he picks up his teacup, Eiji wraps his arm around him again, and gives him the sweetest smile the world has ever known.

“Ash,” Eiji says, several minutes later, once their cups are empty and they’re just sitting there again, watching the empty sky together. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Ash glances at him. “You know I do.”

Eiji doesn’t take his gaze from the window for a long moment. When he finally does, he’s smiling again. “Come on. We should get you in bed.”

Ash frowns, but lets it go. “Where are you sleeping?” 

“The sofa.” Eiji glances out toward the living room. “Or, actually, I think, the floor in front of the sofa. Kong fell asleep there.”

“Stay with me,” Ash says, and looks at the bed. It’s full-sized—they’ll fit fine. Even if it was a twin, he’d offer half to Eiji. “Please.”

“Oh.” Eiji looks surprised, but his eyes are full of warmth when he nods. “If you want me to, yes.”

Ash looks away, at the discolored old carpet. “To be honest… I don’t really want to be alone right now. Too much room in my head for… thinking.”

Eiji makes a sympathetic noise, and then to Ash’s surprise, he takes his hand and squeezes it. “I understand,” he says, and traces over the lines in his palm again. “I will stay. Do you want to talk about it?”

Ash hesitates. He’s told Eiji the barest bones of it all, but some part of him aches to tell him everything, to sob into his arms about the irony of Golzine wanting to adopt him, or to weep into his chest about the horror of being unable to see, to walk, to flee. About being threatened with Eiji’s death, should he attempt suicide. He wants to let it all out, but he knows that if he makes even the slightest dent in this dam, it’ll burst, and they don’t have time to handle the deluge.

“If we survive this week,” he finally says, “ask me again.”

“I will ask you next week,” Eiji promises.

Ash’s heart warms.

“How do you do it?” he asks. Eiji’s hand is still so warm and comforting in his, he never wants to let go, but Eiji pulls away to shrug out of Alex’s jacket, baring his arms to the chill of the drafty room.

“Do what?” Eiji pushes at his shoulder until he stands up, and then gathers the cups, pot, and tray, putting them on the bedside table next to Ash’s gun. It’s not big enough for everything, so he frowns down at it all, then puts Ash’s gun in the the tray next to the teapot. It looks so utterly incongruous there that Ash almost laughs.

“Have faith.” Ash pulls down the edge of the blanket to make room for Eiji to slide in to lay against the wall, then takes the outside edge for himself. “That we’re gonna make it out alive.”

Eiji shrugs, turning the lamp off before he settles into the bed next to him. “One of us has to, and it is not you.”

Ash does laugh at that. “That’s it? Just to spite me?”

“No.” Eiji’s hand finds his under the blanket. He’s wearing one of Bones’s T-shirts and Ash’s sweatpants, and they don’t match at all, but in the dark under the covers, it almost feels like he was made like this, an angel in the flesh. There’s something perfect about him just like this, his hair still slightly damp as it fans out against the pillow. Ash squeezes his hand. “I just have faith in you.”

Oh.

That does something to Ash’s heart. He isn’t sure what, but it’s definitely a good something, whatever it is.

“Why did you ask me if I trust you?” he asks, curling in closer to Eiji despite himself. Eiji is warm, and the sheets are cold. He hates how cold he is these days. “You know I do by now, don’t you?”

“I do.” Eiji squeezes his hand again. “But I wanted you to say it again. That you trust me.”

“I trust you.” Ash looks at him. The city lights illuminate the room well enough that he can make out where Eiji’s eyes are, but it’s too dark for him to see what’s in them. “I trust you, Eiji.”

“I know.” Eiji smiles so slightly it’s nearly imperceptible in the darkness. “So trust me when I say this, Ash: we _will_ make it out of this alive. And we will leave together.”

And then he does something extraordinary. He scoots closer, so that their hands between their bodies brush against his chest, and he stretches up, and…

And he presses his lips to Ash’s forehead. Soft, and gentle, and lingering—it’s the sweetest kiss anyone has ever, _ever_ given him. Ash lies frozen, heart pounding, and tries to remember how to breathe.

“We will be okay,” Eiji promises him. “Now sleep.”

“Eiji,” Ash manages, strangled. _“Eiji.”_

“Yes?”

“Do—can you—do that again,” he stammers, face heating. He can’t just demand that! He can’t demand Eiji’s kisses! That was something holy, something beautiful, something he’s never had in his entire life, and, and… “Please?”

“Oh, Ash.” Eiji leans in and gently nuzzles his hair, then kisses his forehead again, still soft and tender and sweet, and Ash’s chest tightens. “We will be okay.”

Ash lets out a choked breath. When Eiji says it like this, when Eiji kisses him like this… it’s impossible not to believe him.

Maybe they will be okay.

Slowly, painstakingly, he bows his head, until his forehead bumps into Eiji’s collarbone, and he stays like that, drinking in the warmth of him, the nearness of him. Being this close to Eiji is terrifying. Eiji makes him feel so safe that if he’s not careful, he’ll never be able to let go again.

“There you go. Now close your eyes.” Eiji’s hand settles on the back of his head, stroking his hair again, and Ash lets out another slow, shaky breath. “Good. Sleep, Ash. I will be here.”

“Promise?”

It’s a dumb thing to ask. He hasn’t asked for promises since Griff left. But some plaintive, stupid part of him wants to hear Eiji say it anyway.

“Promise,” Eiji says, and pats his head. Ash closes his eyes.

Normally, Ash only gets a few hours of restful sleep. Normally, they’re all punctuated by nightmares, waking him up at least once a night. He’s lucky to get three hours uninterrupted.

But, well…

Tonight isn’t normal.

**Author's Note:**

> rewatched ep 19 with a friend like two nights ago. that shit's FUCKED bro that's so fucked uppppp im sad about ash lynx!!! also as i was typing this the cat came up to me and shoved her cold nose into my arm and i DONT appreciate it. comment if you also dont appreciate this to make her feel remorse
> 
> find me: { [twitter](https://twitter.com/SongbirdRimi) | [tumblr](https://eijispumpkin.tumblr.com) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/SongbirdRimi) }


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